


We could plan a murder, or start a religion

by rosa_himmelblau



Series: The Roadhouse Blues [20]
Category: Wiseguy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:42:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26027413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: The things guys will do when they're bored.
Series: The Roadhouse Blues [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1069713
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	We could plan a murder, or start a religion

"So, what's the furthest you've ever been from home?" Sonny asked, with no real interest in his voice.

Vinnie looked at him him like he was an idiot, though Sonny wasn’t looking at him and didn’t see. “That would be El Salvador,” he said, also like Sonny was an idiot.

"Oh. Yeah." At least Sonny didn’t apologize.

They were silent for a while.

"What about you?" Vinnie asked.

"Um. I dunno. I've been to Palermo. And Switzerland, Genoa. Which one's further?"

Vinnie shrugged. "I dunno."

"Yeah. Whichever."

"Switzerland?" Vinnie asked. "How come?"

"Needed a cuckoo clock," Sonny said, as though it were self-evident. 

"Oh, right." 

Sonny wasn't going to tell him. Did it matter?

No. It didn't.

They were silent again, Sonny standing at the window, Vinnie sitting in a remarkably uncomfortable chair. He was thinking about getting up and moving to the bed, but he wasn't quite uncomfortable enough yet. He shifted a little, which didn't really help.

"You wanna go to a movie?" Vinnie asked.

There was a newspaper on Sonny's bed. He went over and picked it up, glanced at it, then dropped it on the floor. "Nothing showing. What's **wrong** with this town?"

"Nothing at all?" Vinnie asked. He reached down and picked up the paper.

"There's a _Friday the 13th_ piece of shit, you wanna see that?"

Vinnie dropped the paper, not saying anything.

"You gotta think about it?" Sonny asked, sounding amused.

"No, I— No."

Sonny was back staring out the window. "Amber Twine?" he asked. "Really? She was one hot number."

"Hey! I was engaged to her, you know." Vinnie tried to put some heat behind the words. He wondered how Sonny had known about Amber. He didn't remember telling him, which meant exactly nothing, but still. He hadn't known it was Amber Twine Vinnie had been engaged to, just some girl named Amber.

Sonny shrugged. "Sorry."

"Yeah. 'S'all right. Did I tell you I was engaged to her?"

Sonny looked at him suspiciously. "Yeah, about three seconds ago. You don't remember?"

"No— I mean, yes, I remember that! Jesus! I mean, how did you know about her?"

"I met her," Sonny said slowly, enunciating the syllables carefully. "A long time ago, back when—"

"That's not what I meant!"

Sonny waited, still watching him as though he might— Vinnie didn't know what. Do something insane, or something.

"How did you know I knew a girl named Amber?" He didn't ask if he'd told Sonny himself.

"Oh. I overheard Pooch telling your stepfather they ought'a call her, since you were so crazy about her."

"Oh." That was good; it wasn't something Vinnie should have remembered. And he did remember Sonny asking about Amber, and telling him it had been Amber Twine. So, no holes in that small part of his memory.

“Was it really Aldo?” Sonny asked. He sounded a little bewildered. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked this, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, because he couldn’t seem to believe it.

“It was really Aldo who shot me,” Vinnie agreed. “I have it on good authority.”

“So you never really saw him,” Sonny said.

“No, he shot me from a distance.” Whenever they had this conversation, Vinnie had avoided telling Sonny that shortly after shooting him, Aldo had been the victim of an unlikely accident.

“And afterwards you were in the hospital,” Sonny said.

“Yeah, I was unconscious for quite a while. I'd been shot.” He didn't try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Sonny stood looking out the window, shaking his head. “What was Aldo doing chasing you to Vancouver?” He wasn’t really looking for an answer, the question was more of a reflex.

Vinnie answered it anyway. “I think it was a coincidence.” He knew what Aldo was doing there, he was hiding out there. Frank had filled him in, and then Roger had told him other things that he’d pieced together with what Frank had said. He could tell Sonny that, but it would probably lead to having to tell Sonny that Aldo was dead.

There were a lot of questions Sonny wasn’t asking, and Vinnie thought it was probably because he hadn’t quite formulated them. Eventually he would ask something that would lead to Vinnie having to tell him about Aldo, but until then Vinnie wasn’t going to. What good would it do—even on a day like this, when even an unpleasant stir would be an improvement? Better to let it drop.

Vinnie got up. The chair had gotten just uncomfortable enough to be intolerable, and he was going to sit on his bed, but he figured he might as well use the bathroom before he got comfortable.

The toilet was running, so when he was done using it, Vinnie took the top off the tank to see what the problem was. Sonny came in, watched him for a minute, then he sat on the side of the tub. "What're you doing?"

"It's running," Vinnie said. "It's bugging me, so I thought I'd fix it. I think the floater's adjusted wrong." He felt inside his pockets until he found a dime to use as a makeshift screwdriver. Once he had the toilet adjusted properly, Vinnie put the top back on the tank and washed his hands. Then he pushed the handle. The toilet flushed and refilled, stopping when the tank was full. 

Sonny applauded. "That was great, what time's the second show?"

"Sorry, that was my last performance. I open in Cleveland next week."

Vinnie left the bathroom, and Sonny closed the door behind him.

They'd gotten up in the morning, showered, dressed, stopped at the diner for a breakfast that wasn't half bad. There was no gym in town, so they had no morning work-out. There was no beach to walk on, so they wandered around town for a while. It was warm enough to be comfortable, if you kept walking, but if you stopped, the wind got you.

They toured downtown, what there was of it. They wandered around in the grocery store and the drug store, and even the hardware store and the liquor store. Vinnie bought a deck of cards in the drugstore. Sonny bought some earplugs. Vinnie's snoring was bothering him. They'd already been to the gas station, the night before when they got to town, and Sonny had filled the tank. They didn't go into Belle's Beauty Shoppe.

"You think the women in this town would be less likely to have Belle do their hair if she spelled shop with one p and no e on the end?" Vinnie asked.

Sonny shook his head. "No, I think there's some kind'a rule. You gotta spell it that way. If you don't, they come and put up a red and blue barber pole in front'a the place."

After that they had lunch, even though neither of them was really hungry. Vinnie ate too much, so he suggested they walk around town again. This time they looked at the public buildings: the courthouse, the post office, and the library. They didn't go into the library, which, according to the sign in the window, was only open three evenings a week and half a day on Saturday. That was sad.

There were a lot of shops that were closed, and they looked in the windows, speculated on the reasons they'd closed. 

"You get the feeling we're catching this place just as it's turning into a ghost town?" Vinnie asked.

"Sure looks like it. Maybe if we stand here long enough, we'll see a tumbleweed blow past."

"Where are we exactly?" Vinnie asked. He'd been asleep when they'd gotten to town, and he hadn't really been paying much attention.

"You see that?" Sonny asked. He pointed over at the interstate exit.

"The interstate?" Vinnie asked uncertainly. "Yeah, what about it?"

"You get on that interstate and take the next exit, you'll be in the middle of nowhere," Sonny said.

"So we're one exit away from the middle of nowhere? Sort of off to the side of nowhere?" Vinnie asked.

"Yep. That's where we are."

Vinnie looked around. "It lives up to its reputation."

Sonny laughed.

They started to walk around a third time, then Sonny said he wanted to go back to their room. 

Sonny came out of the bathroom. "Toilet's still working," he told Vinnie.

"Great. Maybe I should try my hand at fixing the TV."

"What's wrong with the TV?" Sonny asked. He was pacing around the room, jingling his change and looking as though he couldn't quite get comfortable in his skin.

"The only station it gets is the Weather Channel. I called down about it, but they didn't seem too interested."

"Yeah, well, leave the TV alone," Sonny said. "I don't want you electrocuting yourself."

"I'd unplug it first," Vinnie muttered, not adding that it was more than he could be sure Sonny would do. "Anything interesting in the paper today?"

" **That** paper?" Sonny asked incredulously, motioning at the little local paper he'd picked up while they were out. "Yeah, lotta fascinating stuff in there. The mayor's saying they might put in sidewalks next year, give 'em something to roll up when the sun goes down."

Vinnie laughed, but without much enthusiasm. He was so bored, he felt like screaming. He took a deep breath, held it, let it out.

"Yeah," Sonny agreed, as though Vinnie had actually said something. He sat down in the uncomfortable chair. Why not? It was his turn.

"S'posed to rain tomorrow?" Vinnie asked. "It was looking kind'a cloudy out there."

"Think the rain'll hurt the rhubarb?" Sonny asked, and laughed. For the life of him, Vinnie couldn't remember if that was the punchline of a joke or what.

"Doesn't it say in the paper?" Vinnie asked.

Sonny shrugged. "Why don't you turn on the Weather Channel and find out?"

"Nah, I'm saving that for later."

Sonny stood up abruptly. "I'm going down to the ice machine. You want anything?"

"Like what?" Vinnie asked.

Sonny shrugged. "I dunno."

"No, nothing special. I'll settle for my half of the ice."

"Your third," Sonny corrected judiciously. "I'm the one getting it, you don't get half."

"OK, third," Vinnie agreed. "I don't really need half, I'm just gonna throw it at you, anyway."

When the door closed behind Sonny, Vinnie stretched out on his bed. The ice machine was just down at the end of the hall, but Vinnie thought Sonny would walk around a little more than that. Why not? He was always edgy when he didn't get his morning work-out. Vinnie wondered if Sonny'd be gone long enough for him to jerk off. It didn't seem likely; besides, he wasn't really in the mood. It was just sort of a fallback, something to do when you were bored and couldn't quite relax. But he'd tried in the shower that morning and had only managed to frustrate himself and annoy Sonny by taking so long in the shower.

"Pooch wanted to call Amber? What the hell did he think Amber could do for me?" Vinnie tried to think of something, but he couldn't come up with a thing. "Maybe he just thought she was a better alternative than Sonny." That thought made his brain hurt, the idea that Sonny and Amber were in any way interchangeable. It was too weird to even be funny.

Vinnie was kind of half drowsing when a knock at the door startled him. It was followed by Sonny's preemptory, "Lemme in!"

Vinnie got up and opened the door. "Did you forget the key?"

"No." Sonny pushed past him. He had the ice bucket in one hand and a can of root beer in the other.

"You didn't get me a root beer," Vinnie complained.

"You didn't ask for one," Sonny said. "You asked for ice, you got ice. You can go get your own root beer."

Vinnie lay back down. "Maybe later."

Sonny stood by the window, drinking his root beer and jingling his change. He was watching Vinnie, pretending he wasn't, and Vinnie wondered what he was thinking.

"You wanna play gin?" Sonny didn't answer. "Crazy Eights? How about War? Or Slap Jack?" Sonny smiled briefly. "How 'bout Fifty-two Card Pick-Up?"

"Yeah, I'll throw 'em, you pick 'em up."

They both sighed. Vinnie dealt out a hand of Solitaire, but he could only make three moves before he needed to cheat. He gathered the cards back into a pile and put them on the bedside table. "Wanna go for another walk?"

Sonny just looked at him.

"Yeah, me, neither." Vinnie turned over on his stomach, put his face in his pillow. _I'd take a nap, but I don't think I could sleep._ There was something so enervating about being this bored, it kept him from doing anything.

"You know where we are?" Sonny asked, and there was so much energy in his voice, Vinnie nearly lifted his face out of his pillow to look at him.

"What is this, a test? Of course I know where we are, we're in a crummy hotel in a crummy town in the middle of nowhere. I'm sorry, slightly to the left of nowhere."

"No, we're not. We're in the Twilight Zone."

Now Vinnie did lift his head. "We're what?"

"We're in the Twilight Zone! I remember this episode."

Vinnie sat up. " **What**?"

"The Twilight Zone. Two guys check into a hotel, and they get so bored, they end up setting the place on fire just for something to do."

Vinnie laughed. "Sonny, two guys never checked into a hotel room together on the Twilight Zone. No two guys ever checked into a hotel together on TV in the sixties, the censors wouldn't allow it."

"You just don't remember this episode."

"You sure this wasn't a joke? Two guys check into a hotel and end up burning it down?"

"That's your idea of a joke?" Sonny asked. "You got a weird sense of humor."

Vinnie had to admit it wasn't especially funny. "OK, so we're trapped in this hotel. If we're trapped here, how come we could go out earlier?"

"We're not— I didn't say we were trapped!" To illustrate his point, Sonny went over and flung open the door. "But why are we still here? Do **you** want to be here?"

Vinnie looked around the room. It could have been a room in a fifties movie, the kind that the hero checks into when his life is falling apart. It was even colorless enough to be in black and white. "It's not the Ritz," he agreed. "But I thought we were gonna look for an apartment?"

"Did you see anyplace you'd want to live in this town?" Sonny challenged. "Anyplace? Anyplace you'd ever want to go again?"

Vinnie didn't say that one place seemed pretty much like another, or that it hadn't been the worst day in his life, walking around and looking at what little the town had in the way of sights. On the other hand, the most interesting thing he'd seen was a statue of a dog that had done something heroic. It was so fascinating, an hour later Vinnie couldn't remember what the dog had done.

"No, but if we're trapped here, we have to stay, right? We have no choice?" Vinnie picked up his lighter from the bedside table. "What do you think, does that chair look flammable?"

"Idiot, put that down. We're not trapped, and we're not torching the place."

"I thought we didn't have a choice," Vinnie said. "You're not making a lot of sense."

"I didn't say we didn't have a choice! We just have to get out of here. If we leave, two other guys will show up to take our place, that's how things work in the Twilight Zone. So c'm'on, let's get packed."

"Are you serious?" Vinnie asked.

"Of course I'm serious!" Sonny had started putting his clothes into his suitcase, but he wasn't doing it with any particular haste.

Vinnie got up and grabbed him by the shoulders. "You seriously think we're stuck in a Twilight Zone episode?" he asked again.

Sonny gave him a wide-eyed look. "What, do you think I'm making this up? I seriously think that if I get any more bored, I'm gonna take that red shirt of yours and use it as kindling to set this room on fire!"

"What was wrong with my idea of using the chair?" Vinnie asked. "Oh. Yeah. You hate that shirt." Sonny smiled at him. "What the hell, if it saves my shirt, let's go." Vinnie got his own suitcase and started packing.

He was about to start the car when Sonny put his hand over his, stopping him from turning the key. "Wait."

Vinnie waited, but he didn't know what he was waiting for. Sonny was still holding his hand. Finally, he asked. "What are we doing?"

"Oh, c'm'on." Sonny said. "Don't you wanna see 'em?"

"See who?"

"The other two guys! The ones who're gonna take our place. They ought'a be checking in any minute."

Vinnie started to say he thought Sonny was kidding, then he changed his mind. They sat there, waiting. Vinnie was wondering why sitting in the car, waiting for a couple of guys who didn't exist, was more interesting than anything else they'd done that day, when a black vintage Chevy Impala pulled into a space a few cars down from theirs. Vinnie had the urge to duck down to avoid being seen. "You wanna warn them?" he asked Sonny soto voce.

"Hey, pal, got a match?" Sonny replied in the same conspiratorial tone. He let go of Vinnie's hand.

They watched as two guys in their early twenties walked past them toward the hotel lobby, arguing.

"I did not!" One of them hollered, and hit the other guy with his duffel bag.

"Yeah, you always say that, then I find—"

The door closed, cutting off the rest.

"That was just a coincidence," Vinnie said.

"Mm. Yeah, Probably," Sonny agreed.

"You wanna stay and watch the fire?" Vinnie asked.

"I dunno. Did that grocery have any marshmallows? I've never roasted a marshmallow, have you?"


End file.
